The Dickinson press., 1887-04-09
TR1CKSEY.

Margaret Ayrie was the younger Of two
children of an English Clergyman. Tom, her
handsome brother, had years before married
a fragile girl, and when his regiment was
ordered to India had hidden his wife and
child what proved to be a last farewell. Less
than six months after his departure word
came back of his death from malignant
fever that had broken out among the soldiers.
His wife, heartbrokcn at the news, survived
him but n short time, and at her death Trick
sey became an inmate of the rectory-thc
comfort and JOY of her grandfather's ,lcclin-
ing years, but trial the servants and her
Aunt Margaret.
For three years the Actor had been sleep
ing by tho side of the wife of his youth in
old Hawlcy church yard, and i'll that time
Tricksey had grown into tall girl quite be-
yond her aunt's control. Gentle Margaret
was no match for this girl full of splendid
animal life and rare Independence. Scorn-
ing, rs she did, all the little set rules that
hedge in an English girl, Tricksey was con-
slant annoyance and source of anxiety to her
shrinking relative. She was determined to
enjoy her life i'll her own way. Did she want
to laugh she did so i'll no uncertain manner.
Did she choose to ride that exercise was taken
with no regard whatever to possible broken
bones. and each time she returned old Ronic,
who filled the double capacity of coachman
and gardener, received the reins she care
lcssly flung him with the muttered prophecy:
"Shc'll l'rck her make, sure, i some O her gal
lups." But nevertheless, Trickscy returned
each time unharmed, her horse usually in
lathcr and her cheeks and Dyes glowing with
life and health. The salt sea air acted like
wine upon the girls temperament.
Trcliscy had heard vague whispers i'll re-
gard to q lo, affair of her aunt's youth; but
just what 1t was the careless, happy child had
never troubled herself to ascertain She
never dreamed that the master of Talcott-
wold--that great, grim, silent stone house
that had been closed ever since she could rc-
membcr-had anything to do with Marsaret's
life. Old ROME had often rcgalel Trickscv
with descriptions of Guy ralcott-hs gen
croSity, bravery and manliness being themes
of which the honest old Scotchman never
tired. Listening to these glowing accounts,
TriclsScy clothed their subject with all the
chivairous attributes of her favoritc heroes,
and Talcottwold, with its massive walls and
stately elnls, became the center of the girls
imagination, around which focused all that
was mysterious in her nature. That her
Aunt Margaret was i'll any way connected
with the absence of its owner hal never oc
Cured to Tricksey although old Ronic'S
hints would have been enough to arouse Il
more worldly wise persons suspicious.
:: r u
Trickscy had ridden one day to the dunes, a
wi,lc stretch of beach above the tide mark,
totally devoid of vegetation and covered with
miniature hills where the wind had piled the
sand; hence its name. This desolatc place
seemed to have great attractions for her, as
she rode more frequently here than anywhere
else. There We're two ways of reaching it
from the rectory: one by the main road, and
the otlcr---a mnah nearer way-by a path
cut through the rocks at the base of the
cliffs, cnlcl the "narrows." This path was
hut seldom used, as it was unsafe when the
tide wns in.
The spice of danger connected with the mar
rows was enough to make it TrickSrys favor.
lite, and many n time she had gallopc'l ovcrit,
seemingly throwing defiance to the waves
that almost touched the feet of her horse.
This time she had ridden farther than usual,
in fact, going II mile or two beyond the
dunes. and as She ncarcd the larrows llpo'l
her return old Ronie's warning came back to
her:
"Gic Jcp the main way the day, Miss Trick
sey, there's mucklc sea q runnin an T. nar.
rows he dangerous groun' anyway"
She had laughed Mt his fears in the morn
Ing. hut now the words rang in her cars with
anything but pleasant cadence; and when
Jep stopped snllenly. with his ears pointing
forward and dilatel nostrils something very
like fear coursed through l'rickscv's veins.
This was but momcntary, and quickly re-
covering herself she took firmcr hold of the
reins and urged the horse forward
Jep had gone but n short distance, rcluc-
tantly, and snortng his protest, when n
strong hand reached out and grnsping the
br'lle close to the bits brought the horse to so
sudden a stop rs to almost unscat its rider
Quicker than flash Trckscy's whip de-
srcndcd, leaving n vivid mark across the
strangers shapcly hand. The blow failed its
intended effect, rs the gentleman did not cycn
finch, but as Jep began pltnSing only
frightened his hold on tho bride. When the
horse had quictcHl down he looked up into
Trickseys angry, flushed face.
"Pardon me, but you seem to be unaware
of tho danger ahead or'-here his lip curlc,l
as lie looked at her keenly-'your arc OK
trcmely reckless"
The well modulated voice had EASTERN ring
in it, totally now to Trickscy, and, therefore,
attractive Before he had finished speaking
her anger had subsidized, and shame at the
hnsty action succeeded it.
"I-I am sorry hit you," she stammered.
all nnconsciously making a pretty pictur
with her blushing face and wind tossed hair.
Every one is entitled to the privilege Of
self-dcfensc," he gravely answered 81 came
through tho narrows short time ngo, and it
was all my horse could do to keep his footing.
BY this time the path is completely sub
merged. called to you, but the surf must
have prevented your hearing my voice" AS
be ceased speaking he loosened his hold OH
Jep's mouth, and Tricksey saw the purple
mark her whip had left. She sprang to the
ground, and, taking flask of cologne from
pocket in the saddle, saturated her handke..-
chief with its contents and deftly wound the
improvised bandage around the wounded
hand.
lie watched her penitent movements with
CLEAN of amusement in his somber eyes
ut seems that you are an adept in both
giving and relieving pa:n," he said when she
had finished.
u am so sorry," was all poor Tricksey
could find voice to say. He helped her into
the saddle, and mounting his own horse
which had been quietly standing near-they
turned toward the main road.
"lf am not mistaken, you are Tom Ayrie's
daughter: at any rate you bear strong re-
semblance to him."
Trcksey gave subducd assent and he con-
tinucd:
II am Guy Talcott, and as will be in fu-
ture a near neighbor, think you will not
object to my going home with you"
Just what reply Tricksey made to this she
never knew; one thing, it seemed as if she
would certainly fall from her horse when she
fully realized who this handsome, middle aged
gentleman was. The next thing she was con-
scious of was shame at her appearance. For
the first time in Tricksey's life she regretted
frowsy hair and dusty habit and longed to be